


Fighting Talk

by WolfesPuppies



Series: Hurt/Comfort plotless ficlets [3]
Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Fights, Friendship, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, this is hard to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:40:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25316938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfesPuppies/pseuds/WolfesPuppies
Summary: In which Dario gets in a fight over an insult to Khalila, and Glain finds him.
Series: Hurt/Comfort plotless ficlets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627369
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Fighting Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoy writing these two, and it's fun writing them together!
> 
> As ever, entirely unedited.

It's a pleasant evening, the air cool and the breeze coming from the sea light, and Glain decides to take advantage of it with a walk by the docks on her way home from the barracks. It's not strictly speaking on her way, but she has the time, and if she sees anyone she knows and is asked to join them, well it's the perfect night to spend a few hours with a few drinks and a few friends. As she passes a pub she frequents often, someone shouts her name, and she turns to see a few of the soldiers in her company gesturing for her to take the empty seat at their table. Glain accepts the invitation and goes inside the pub to get a drink before joining them.

It's a pleasant few hours spent drinking and by the time Glain takes her leave, she has a pleasant buzz in her head, just the right side of tipsy. The other soldiers laugh and try to pull her back down when she tries to leave, but the night is growing late and her bunk is calling her name, so she makes her excuses and apologies and manages to extricate herself from their grasp eventually. It's not a short walk from the docks, and Glain has had enough to drink that half her concentration is focused on walking in a straight line, so much so that she doesn't see the commotion taking place down an alleyway until she's almost walked past it.

“Sto-fuck!”

Glain stops when she hears that, followed by the unmistakable thump of a fist meeting a face. The accent and the voice is familiar, as is the groan that follows. Glain sighs, shakes her head, regrets that decision immediately as it makes her head swim even more than usual, and walks back a few paces to the mouth of the alley. Just as she suspected, barely visible in the gloom and the shadows cast by the three men standing over one on the floor. Dario.

“Evening gentlemen.” Glain isn't above using the reputation of the Welsh to bolster her own already formidable one, and deliberately broadens her accent as much as possible. The three men look up from where one is preparing to kick Dario, take note of who has disturbed them, and all decide simultaneously they have some other place to be. A shame, Glain would have appreciated the fight, but as it is only gets the satisfaction of seeing the three men run from the alley before she sighs again and goes in to stare down at Dario. He's got a bloody nose, the beginnings of what is sure to be quite the impressive black eye, and judging by the groan and the tender way he curls over his midsection as he attempts to stand, at least a couple of bruised ribs.

“I had it handled.” he mutters. Glain raises an eyebrow.

“Sure you did. Those men were just leaving anyway.” Her tone is drier than the desert, and Dario winces, but doesn't say anything else, just leans against the wall and closes his eyes. Glain copies his stance, and looks over to him.

“When does Khalila get back?”

“That's not what this is.”

Glain doesn't answer this time, just lets Dario fill the silence when it stretches on for too long.

“Next week.” he finally mutters. “I wasn't looking for a fight.”

“I think you're better at finding them than I am.”

Dario scowls at that, but doesn't argue the point, instead sniffing and wiping at the blood under his nose with a brocade sleeve. “They started off by insulting Spain, and then went on to... _imply_ things about Khalila. How she got to be Archivist. I don't know if they were doing it on purpose or if it was just bad luck I happened to overhear.”

“So you punched one of them.”

Dario makes a vague noise of agreement before pushing himself off the wall. “Goodnight, Glain.”

She follows him out of the alley, and then dogs his heels when he turns left, even though her bed lies the opposite direction and the pleasant buzz she'd had upon leaving her friends has turned into irritation.

“I don't need to be escorted home.” he finally mumbles after a few minutes.

“So you aren't going to find another pub to get drunk in?”

“I don't need a minder, Glain!”

“I never said you did. But you're injured, and you're drunk, and you're the partner of the Archivist, and I'm sure there's quite a few people who would be willing to take advantage of the first two purely because of the third.”

“What do you suggest then?” There's more than a hint of bitterness to Dario's voice that suggests he knows she's entirely right, but won't admit it for the world.

“Come back to mine. We'll have a couple more drinks, clean you up, and you can sleep on the sofa.”

Dario sighs, then winces as it moves his sore ribs, and that seems to be the thing that makes his decision for him. “Fine.”

“Good.” Glain turns on her heel and doesn't wait to see if he follows. His footsteps follow after a few moments. The walk back to Glain's small house is quiet, and they enter in silence.

“Sit down, I'll get you some water.” Glain instructs, pointing to her sofa and walking into the kitchen. By the time she returns, he is slumped back on the cushions, eyes closed and listing slightly to the left. Glain rolls her eyes and gently taps him on the back of the head. He startles a little before taking the glass of water and the damp wash cloth Glain hands to him as she sits down next to him and drinking her own glass of water.

“You're an idiot.” She tells Dario, and he makes a quiet noise of acknowledgement. “But you're not stupid. You know what people say about Khalila, I know you've read the gossip magazines.” He doesn't deny it. “I understand the urge to punch the writers of those articles, so I can imagine how you felt hearing those men earlier. But you need to be more careful.”

Dario turns to look at her then, one eyebrow sharply arched, the other obscured by the cold wash cloth on his black eye. “Careful Glain, you're sounding almost like you care there.”

Glain laughs. Despite herself, she is... _fond_ of the man next to her, and it would even be called a friendship by some. “Almost.”

They lapse back into silence for a minute or two until Dario breaks it. “Thank you.”

Glain elbows him lightly. “Any time.”


End file.
